Sympathy
by Feral Phoenix
Summary: She knew she was dying. The shock of the fall was killing her. The only real surprise was finding someone in the human world who understood. A brief meeting between sundered angels, and the secret he never told anyone else. [Aymiacentric and semicoherent]


Sympathy

DISCLAIMER: Do not own Yggdra Union. Like seriously people.

_((And I wasn't all the things I tried to make believe I was//And I wouldn't be the one to kneel before the dreams I wanted//All the talk and all the lies were only empty things disguised as me))_ -the Goo Goo Dolls/Sympathy

She awakened, and the world spun. Everything was pain.

"So you're awake…"

That voice. Someone was there. The weeks and months of hostility ranging from disdain to open abuse firmly took hold, and her reaction was automatic: She flinched away from the sound, raising her arm to shield her face as if to prevent a blow, and instantly cried out as agony jolted through her muscles.

"You'd better stay still. You're in awfully bad shape, and I doubt you want to make things any worse."

The black executioner's fold had been removed from her eyes, she realized disjointedly. It was a strange thing to have to remember that she could use her eyes again, after her long, dark captivity. She opened them, squinted up at dizzying patches of brightness and shadow, then settled her blurry gaze on a nearby face.

"Who……?"

"If I were in your place, I'd wait a while before asking questions," the person near her said mildly. The voice was kind; there was a note of… something she didn't quite recall in it. "Sleep for a while. I can't lessen the pain, but with any luck you'll feel better after some natural rest."

That face. There was something wrong with his face. But she couldn't concentrate, couldn't think. The only thing she knew for certain was that there was little or no immediate threat to her here. With that uneasy discernment, the most effort she could make in her battered state, what little she could see swam together into mad swirls of color until her consciousness itself dissipated.

---

She awoke.

Pain screamed through her body, but she felt a lot more lucid. Trying to ignore it, she sat up and tried to look around.

It was dark, and this place was filled with thick plant life, thicker than she'd ever seen in Asgard. There was a small fire on a starburst-shaped pile of sticks near her, and a blanket had been laid over her wasted form.

"Up again so soon?" asked that voice. She turned as quickly as she could manage, her back searing with every movement.

Even as she began to draw back from the presence of another so close—a reaction that had become almost instinctive out of necessity—he shook his head. "Relax. I'm like you."

"…………" She watched him worriedly, but she got the feeling that he was telling the truth. His clothes were little better than rags, but they might well have been of angelic design in their better days, and she could sense the spark of divine power running through the bindings he wore.

"And this place is safe, so don't strain yourself worrying. It's sealed against all those who don't carry my approval. You don't have to be afraid, poor thing."

She dropped her head weakly back to the soft pile of cloth that had served as her pillow, a few strands of her hair falling limply into her face.

As she lay there, she heard the rustle of his movement, then felt cool fingers on her brow, gently stroking her hair back. "Do you have a name?"

She licked cracked, bloody lips and whispered her reply. "Aymia."

"Aymia?" He paused, then rolled the name in his throat, as if examining the taste of the syllables. "Aymia. I remember an Aymia. Yes… you were—you were just a baby back then." He sighed, and there was despair in his voice when he went on. "You're little more than a child, even now. …I see things back home haven't changed a bit." These last words had an edge to them—whether disgust or old bitterness, she wasn't sure which.

"You're… not going to…?"

"Going to ask what you did?" he finished for her. "No. I don't need to ask. Whatever it was, I am most certain it did not merit this. So young. The gods' cruelty knows no bounds."

Sin was sin, even so. She wanted to say it, but couldn't. To have loved as she loved… what worse treachery was there to the heavens? Only the fact that pain still stabbed through her broken heart when she pictured Maduin's face was proof enough of that.

"Anyway, it's none of my business. And I'm sure you don't want to talk about it. I'm just glad you're awake, and lucid." A short, self-mocking laugh. "When I first came here, I could barely even remember my own name."

"…………?" She looked up at him weakly, expectantly.

"Nessiah. It's Nessiah. …Pleased to make your acquaintance."

---

As she drifted between sleeping and waking, she conserved her energies for thought. She harbored no illusions about her condition. Her mind, broken as it might be, was all that she had left to her.

Of course she'd heard of him. It had happened when she was barely more than an infant, as he'd said, but there was still the occasional whisper.

Only two things were ever said in conjunction with that forbidden name: High treason, and insane. Someone her people were well rid of, to be sure. But were those whispers really true? She… knew she hadn't been here long, and had been awake for less than a handful of hours, but… he didn't seem like that to her at all.

Whenever she woke, he was always there. Usually silent, but he spoke whenever she felt as though she couldn't bear the quiet any longer, when the lack of sound deafened and brought her pulse high in terror. He was caring for her, she knew—guarding her or protecting her, even. He'd said this place was sealed against intrusion, after all.

There was something even… brotherly about the way he looked after her. It had been so long since she'd been able to put her faith in someone, but… she knew that he wouldn't harm her for the world.

He was hardly the psychopath they made him out to be at home…

If someone like him could be so kind beneath the lies, then…

It all came back to Maduin. His kind was the enemy of the gods, but… she'd seen no intent to harm in his kind smile, either.

It confused her, and it ruined her. But what matter was it? Because, after all…

---

"Nessiah."

"What is it?"

"I'm… dying, aren't I?"

A pause. "…Yes."

The tears stung viciously, although she'd known.

"I'm sorry." He said it very gently. "When I found you, I thought…" A long pause. "I cauterized… your wounds as soon as I could, but it was too late. The damage was already done. You've lost too much blood, and the shock of the fall… there's nothing I can do." Another pause. "Healing… is the only magic I've never been any good at. I'm sorry."

She swallowed, tried to moisten her dry lips a little. "How long?"

He hesitated. "…I doubt… much more than a few hours. Aymia… I'm sorry."

"Stay with me?"

"Of course."

A very long silence. Aymia breathed, watching the patterns of light coming through the trees' leaves. The pain was already fading. Soon it would be gone. Then, she could sleep without knowing she would eventually have to wake up.

"Aymia, there's something I need to ask of you."

"…?"

"I have a way of making an imprint of your soul, your heart and memory… something for you to leave behind, in a way for others to draw power. If you would like, I can do that for you… if only so that there's something of you left in this world."

"……….. Why would you… want…?"

"I believe… that there's something very wrong with the way things are being dealt with in the heavens," Nessiah said. "When I make my stand, I will need more power than I alone can muster. The gods—or one of those in training to become the next Magi… the things that they do are unforgivable. I won't let it go on."

"…………"

"…Please, Aymia. The sundering broke your body, but there's still power in your soul and in your memory. If I can, I will use that power to fight in your name."

"…alright."

As his magic sang sweetly through the air, golden and clear like sunlight, like the softer side of the beautiful, ugly world, Aymia drifted. In the absence of pain, her chest felt warm. Whether it was from Nessiah's power or not, she didn't know, and didn't much care.

She smiled, a Madonna in her temporal beauty. The haze of exhaustion made her eyelids heavy; her heartbeat was slowing.

In the silence, it was the thoughtlessness of sleep that spoke before she could hold herself back. "His name was Maduin," she said slowly. "It was beautiful… while it lasted."

"…Thank you, Aymia."

Maybe she was imagining it, but something in his voice made her believe that he understood.

---

She felt almost as though she were underwater. She couldn't open her eyes. Her breathing was slow, dreamlike, as she drifted further and further away.

"Aymia, I'm going to tell you a secret. Something I've never told anyone."

Nessiah's voice again. It barely reached her. She was already so far from it all.

"I was innocent, Aymia."

Something in her flickered—wonder, alarm, horror—then subsided.

And then, there was nothing at all.

:owari:


End file.
